What a Pain
by TheAnomally
Summary: I don't own anything. Sherlock is BBC's brainchild. John gets kidnapped, Sherlock has to find him, if he even realizes he is gone.


Getting shot hurts, there is tearing, breaking, and burning. It's a pain that sticks with you for several weeks. The first time he got shot was in Afghanistan; the bullet tore through his shoulder, devouring skin, slicing and searing muscle, shattering bone, and snapping tendons and ligaments. In one end and out his back; the corpsmen stabilized him in the field, the doctors did what they could in the middle, and at the end the surgeon could only do so much. He was sent home with a discharge, and a pension that could barely put food on his table. Physical therapy lasted only so long; there were other soldiers who needed them more. His head shrinker could only do so much; she had never been to war so what could she really accomplish, John only let her in as far as he wanted her to go. He read her notes upside down on more than one occasion, and from that he knew more about her then she did of him. It was still having someone nice to talk to though, but she was a nagging bore.

His tremor and limp was more out of ennui than anything else; everyday was a disappointment, until he moved in to 221B Baker Street. Once one the cases with Sherlock Holmes life had meaning again; even though Holmes was a strange and pompous ass. No one he ever encountered had a personality like Sherlock Holmes, so brilliant and yet so dull to the simplest things around him.

"I totally get it." He said.

Watson shook his head. "No, you don't."

"No, no I don't." Sherlock said as he sipped his sweetened coffee. "Sentiment?" He then said.

Watson nodded. "Sentiment."

Watson learned deductive logic from Sherlock, and Holmes was slowly learning about emotions from John.

Several years, many cases, and a fake suicide later found John married and Sherlock into drugs; one could say their world had turned somewhat upside down. His Mary, which was not her real name, was not the woman he thought she was, she was a deadly assassin, but she was carrying his child. Moriarty was gone, but another genius had just taken his place, Magnus who had a mind palace chock full of secrets on everyone. Sherlock had killed him with John's gun, but in actuality it was John who wanted to pull the trigger, until his man had come along he had been happy in ignorant blissful tedium. Before Magnus came along, only Sherlock, and Mycroft were the liars, now he had to add Mary to that list. The danger was exciting, but the untruths hurt, he hated fibbers. He got enough bull from Harry to last him a life time.

Now Moriarty was supposedly back, or was he, and the team was back together. John had not forgiven Mary and he would never see her in the same light, but he could never leave her, she was pregnant after all. John was the eternal good guy; the Doctor who saved lives no matter what the cost.

Next to Mary, Mycroft, and Sherlock he must have looked like the idiot fourth wheel; right now he felt that way too. Mary had gone off to check with her contacts, Mycroft was getting his people on it, and presently Sherlock was coordinating with the tech specialist about the feed that had infiltrated all the media around London. John had watched it several times trying to pick out clues that might have been left in the message. In the end he got a headache, and he was sick and tired of looking at Moriarty's mocking face.

John shrugged on his coat. "I'm going to go take a walk; clear my head."

"No, no, no that's just stupid; you're about as useful to me as Anderson, go AWAY. I'll figure this out on my own." Sherlock snapped at the tech guy. "Just go, don't look at me, you're putting me off!" he continued his rant, until the techie was at the door. "Pick up some milk and eggs while you're out." He then said.

The tech man looked at Sherlock . "Who…"

John patted the man on the shoulder. "Out, the last part was mine."

John escorted the man out and then headed down the street toward the park; he'd let Holmes have a little quiet for now, but he wouldn't stay out too long, he hopped Holmes was not going to shoot up just to expand his mind. John shook his head, how could a man so brilliant think something so stupid. Hopefully Ms. Hudson would bother him with tea, in a few minutes.

The park was refreshing, looking at healthy flora and fauna was much better than staring at Moriarty's face. He was heading to the shops when he felt the hairs on his neck stand up, he was being watched, he immediately looked at the CCTV cameras but none of them were pointed at him. He looked around but nothing seemed amiss; he used to be better at identifying threats, the army had sharpened him, but civilian life had taken that all away.

"Excuse me love, do you have the time?" A sultry voice asked him.

He locked eye with a pretty blond in a running outfit. "UM sure it's three."

"Thanks, can't seem to make this darn thing tell me the bloody time!" She laughed as she showed him the slim black band on her arm. "Heart rate, steps taken, miles traversed, calories burned, but time no." She said and touched his hand.

He nodded at her. "Ah ok. Good day."

He was about to go when he started to feel a bit woozy; he blinked and then looked at the girl. She was smiling at him, but it was no longer a friendly smile.

"Take care love, you're not looking good. I guess we best get you home; before you pass out." She purred as she clamped her hands on his arms.

To bystanders he must have look sick or intoxicated, so not one bothered to help him as she directed him towards the dark van that had just arrived. He tried calling out, but his vocal chords did not seem to work anymore; his limbs were getting heavier and clumsier. He was feeling quite disoriented; he tried to resist, but he just couldn't.

"Come now darling; don't make this harder than it has to be." She cooed. "Someone wants to see you, and it is best if you don't keep him waiting." She got her face in real close to his and smiled.

With whatever strength he had left; he reared back, and slammed his forehead into her face. There was a satisfying scream of pain, before everything went sideways for him. Last thing he recalled was a gorilla beating him with a train; there were sparks and then darkness.


End file.
